A Useless Person

I was never good at sports; I tried out a couple of times in high school. Drawing didn’t come very naturally, either. I was never musically inclined or gifted with a good singing voice, though I forget that after a couple of beers. The truth is I was never really good at anything until I joined the Army. It was the physicality of it, mental spiritual challenge of it. The Drill Sergeants pushed you and encouraged you to push yourself. I felt like I was doing something that mattered, helping people, protecting people.

My favorite shows growing up were always about a small band of warrior fighting against the forces of evil: He-Man, Thundercats, TMNT, and so forth. I wasn’t the only kid to watch these shows, though, millions did. It couldn’t just have been watching these shows that influenced me so much, maybe it’s just in my blood. My father and both my grandfathers served in the military, my father and his father both being Law-enforcement officers. A cousin of ours looked up our family history, and according to his research the first Montez that came over to the New World were Conquistadors.

The contradictory nature of this and my brown skin isn’t lost on me, but if that information is accurate, then I think it would be safe to say that, yeah, being a warrior is in my blood. Others have told me that they feel safer when I am around, that my presence is comforting to them.  We have a group of people that we spend time with, we call it our tribe, I am considered the protector of the tribe, so that when we are all gathered together somewhere I am responsible for everyone’s safety. This is what drives me. The reason I work hard to stay in shape, not to look a certain way or to show off, but to always be prepared for the worst.

I feel as though being a warrior is something that I have done for lifetimes. I could not be whole doing anything else, no matter how rich or poor it would make me. Putting my life on the line for others, helping people, this is what I live for. I know that others would read this and think that I’m crazy, that I’m living in a fantasy world. Maybe that’s true, I often ask myself that, but those who depend on and look to me do not think so, and that is really what matters. There’s a passage from the book Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai (yeah, I quote that book often) that I am reminded of: “The fact that a useless person often becomes a matchless warrior…is because he has already given up his life and has become one with his lord.”